


the way I've been lovin' you

by CalumSmiles (dreamforlife)



Series: A hundred and five is the number [1]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, M/M, Michael is devious, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Obliviousness, Sexual Frustration, boys being stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 12:22:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7463079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamforlife/pseuds/CalumSmiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ashton chuckles. “Was that an attempt to distract me? Bro, I still want answers. What's got you so riled up these days?” </p><p>You, lies on the tip of his tongue but he obviously doesn't say it. </p><p>“It's been a while, I guess,” is what he says instead. </p><p>Ashton pats his knee. “We can go out tomorrow night. Find you a nice girl.” He smirks. “Give your right hand a break, or we’ll be out of a bass player real soon.” </p><p>Calum really needs the ground to open up and swallow him whole so he can escape from this conversation. </p><p>I don't want a girl, he groans silently. I really don't want a girl. </p><p>“What?” </p><p>It's the complete shock in Ashton's voice that makes Calum look at him. Wide-eyed, slack-jawed and completely befuddled, Ashton is staring at him. </p><p>“What?” Calum asks. He waves a hand in front of Ashton's face. “What?”</p><p>Ashton blinks rapidly. “You don't want a girl?” </p><p> <br/>~~~~</p><p>Or, Calum sees something he probably shouldn't have, has an existential crisis about it, and Ashton learns some things. Michael is the devious matchmaker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the way I've been lovin' you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stelleshine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stelleshine/gifts).



> Gifted to the wonderful Jenna because she's gotten into Cashton lately and been screaming with me about it. Much love <3 
> 
> SO okay, I know I need to finish Blue Masquerade but have y'all been paying attention to Cashton lately??? Anyway, as a result, this happened and I thought I'd share it with you all. 
> 
> Enjoy my very first Cashton fic! ;)

It's not that Calum wants to be in this situation. It's just that he now is. By the simple virtue of accidentally seeing Ashton jerking off on one of their off days. 

See, the thing is, he hadn't realised what he'd actually thought until it ran through his head for the second time. Ashton's facial expressions when he's sprawled across his bed trying to get himself off are terrifyingly identical to the way his face twists and slackens when he's slamming away at his drums, and no part of this new revelation is helping Calum’s already-existing-but-hastily-buried-now-resurfaced-raging crush—more than a crush—on Ashton. 

So here's Calum's problem. It's hot. It's really, really hot. He's burning alive just thinking about it and right now, he's watching Ashton practice in the rehearsal room and he's going to spontaneously combust into a gazillion Calum-shaped pieces of pent-up sexual frustration. 

Calum can feel himself sweating, body hot and blood thrumming under his skin, and he forces himself to look away from the glistening sweat on Ashton's toned arms and the bitten red of his lips. 

“Definitely going to hell,” Calum mutters to himself. “Fuck.” 

There's a special place in hell for him for getting blindingly turned on by his best friend. A very special, gold-plated throne. He's so glad that they're finishing up because he's got his self-control fraying at the edges—shit, Ashton should never be allowed to make that orgasm face on stage it's _obscene_ —and he is so ready to spend a long, hot shower getting very familiar with his right hand.

“Hey.” 

Calum shakes his head, ears popping, and looks up to find Michael watching him with an eyebrow arched in concern. 

“Huh?” He asks intelligently. 

“You okay? You look kinda like shit,” Michael says, frown lines creasing his forehead. 

Calum swallows past his thick throat, chokes and coughs until he can breathe again. His eyes are damp and he laughs, a little hysterically, as he wipes away the tears. 

Michael is watching him with wide, obviously worried eyes now and Calum takes a deep, calming breath. 

“Sorry, sorry. I'm fine, Mike. It's just been a long day,” he says, eyes flitting to where Ashton is— _holy fuck, okay_ —wiping his face with his shirt and oh god those abs are sinful. “A really fucking long day,” Calum finishes absently. 

Michael's snort cuts through his daze and Calum looks back to find him grinning. 

“What?” 

“You need to get laid,” is what Michael says. “With a guy,” he adds with a wink before he spins on his heel, grabs his bag and waltzes out the door to find Luke. 

Calum groans, blushing involuntarily, and rubs his palms down his face to get himself together. 

“Hey, Cal, wanna get take out from that Thai place on the way home?” Ashton calls from the other end of the room as he stuffs his things into a backpack. 

“I will do your laundry for a month if we just go home right now,” Calum answers on a single breath. “Please,” he tags on belatedly.  

Ashton zips up his bag and comes over to him and Calum sucks in a small breath. Ashton's eyes are striking and Calum wants to feel the burn of that scruffy beard between his thighs. His entire body thrums with the thought. 

This is a bigger problem than Calum had thought it would be. Clearly he overshot his control and sanity by a mile. Or ten. 

There's a tiny frown pressing into Ashton's eyebrows. 

“You're really red, bro,” he says, studying Calum intently. “You coming down with something?” 

“Nah, just tired,” Calum says with a smile that hopefully hides the manic laughter in his head. “C'mon, it's your turn to drive me home.” He adds his patented Calum Hood™ puppy eyes and pout for good measure. 

Ashton snorts. “You're a lazy shit, but you’re lucky you're a cute lazy shit. Get your ass in the car.” 

Calum holds his guitar case in front of his body and manages a very uncomfortable walk to the car. 

 

**

 

If Calum never sees Ashton bench press twice his own weight, it'll be too soon. 

But of course there's no chance of that since they work out together regularly. So Calum suffers through the mental images he's assaulted with—who the fuck knew he had a thing for getting manhandled—and makes it out the other end, drained and hating himself. By the end of the week, Calum is honestly sure he's gained more arm muscles from jerking off than actually lifting weights. 

“Wanna head to the beach?” Ashton asks as they sit on the couch, eating dinner on Saturday night, a week after Calum had stumbled into Ashton’s room and regretted his life ever since.

Calum, munching on a pizza crust, looks away from where one Masterchef contestant is making the worst mistake of his life. “What, now?” 

“Yeah now,” Ashton rolls his eyes. “Come on, man, it's almost ten pm and I know a place.” 

Calum snorts. “You always know a place. And I would but I'm tired, bro, I ceebs to move.” 

He gets a Look. 

“With how much you've been jerking off lately, I'm surprised you can actually move, let alone do all the cardio we’ve been doing,” Ashton says with a grin. “I've been meaning to ask about that 'cos what the fuck?”

Calum chokes on the pizza crust. And continues to choke on said pizza crust until Ashton thumps his back a few times and the piece lodged in his throat comes flying out. It lands on the lid of the open pizza box on the coffee table. He collapses breathlessly against the couch, face burning, teeth tucked into his lower lip. 

“Jesus, Calum,” Ashton mutters, rubbing his back slowly. “You alright, man?”

“Yeah,” Calum manages, “I'm fine.” 

Ashton chuckles. “Was that an attempt to distract me? Bro, I still want answers. What's got you so riled up these days?” 

 _You_ , lies on the tip of his tongue but he obviously doesn't say it. 

If there was ever a downside to living with Ashton—besides the daily reminders of his pathetic situation and desperate cold showers—it's that most things don't get past him. Calum should have known that any change to his behaviour wouldn't have gone unnoticed. 

“It's been a while, I guess,” is what he says instead. 

Ashton pats his knee. “We can go out tomorrow night. Find you a nice girl.” He smirks. “Give your right hand a break, or we’ll be out of a bass player real soon.” 

Calum really needs the ground to open up and swallow him whole so he can escape from this conversation. 

I don't want a girl, he groans silently. _I really don't want a girl._

“What?” 

It's the complete shock in Ashton's voice that makes Calum look at him. Wide-eyed, slack-jawed and completely befuddled, Ashton is staring at him. 

“What?” Calum asks. He waves a hand in front of Ashton's face. _“What?”_

Ashton blinks rapidly. “You don't want a girl?” 

And Calum's heart grabs his stomach and leaps out of the window into the last dregs of peak hour traffic below.  

He sits frozen where he is, blood rushing past his ears. 

“Cal?” Ashton's voice is soft and his hand is gentle when it settles on Calum's shoulder. “Breathe, idiot. I don't care. Calum, you could want to bang an alien for all I care, you're still my best friend.” 

A strangled laugh comes out of Calum and he glances at Ashton as a grin spills across his mouth. 

“Alien? So what, you'd be okay if I wanted to sleep with like, Jar Jar Binks? Does Superman count as an alien—”

He ducks, laughing, as Ashton takes a half-hearted swing at him. 

“Shut up, fuckface, I'm trying to be nice because you just _came out_ to me and you're being an idiot,” Ashton huffs, crossing his arms. 

Calum heaves a sigh. “Sorry. I'm sorry. Thank you,” he says quietly, looking up at Ashton. 

A small smile ticks up the corners of Ashton's mouth. ”How long?” He asks, settling back into the arm of the couch so he's facing Calum. 

“Just before you joined the band,” Calum says. 

Truthfully, it had been the morning after that fateful sleepover. Calum had woken up, back aching from the floor, and had been a first hand witness to the endearing, confused mess Ashton Irwin becomes before nine a.m.

He isn’t necessarily lying. Ashton didn't _officially_ join the band until the Annandale gig. 

“Oh,” Ashton says. He frowns for a moment at the couch before he looks up. “You didn't tell any of us?” 

Calum hesitates. Sixteen-year-old Michael smiles encouragingly in his memory. 

“I...” He ducks his head and digs a finger into a groove in the couch cushions. “Michael knows. But I guess that's because I was freaking out too much to deal with it alone.” 

“Did you guys ever...?” 

Calum's head snaps up. “What? Me and _Michael?_ Oh fuck, no, man, 'course not.” He snorts. “In his words, my eyes aren't blue enough.” 

Ashton barks an amused laugh, hair flipping over his forehead. “So basically you aren't Luke enough.” 

“Yeah.” Calum picks at a loose thread. “I suppose, in the interest of full disclosure, I should probably tell you that I may have slept with Leighton.” 

 _“May have?”_ Ashton squeaks, eyebrows rising. 

“Okay, fine. Yes, I slept with him. We were each other's firsts.” Calum shakes his head at the memory of the awkward fumbling and hasty kisses in the darkness of Leighton's bedroom. “It was as good as first times get, I guess.” 

“Oh,” Ashton says. He's quiet for a moment. Then he laughs as he pokes Calum's foot with his toes. “So, anyone you're lusting after?” 

Calum rolls his eyes, ignoring his heart as it thuds against his ribs. “Nah.” 

“Right,” Ashton giggles. “Alright. Thanks for telling me, even if it was an accident.” 

Calum just prays his thanks that he hadn't accidentally confessed to wanting to suck Ashton's dick and settles back to watch as Alan is handed a gold pin for winning the macaroon challenge. 

After the episode ends, Ashton pokes him. “Beach?”

Calum groans and tips himself sideways until his face is squished into Ashton’s thigh. He mumbles incoherently into the soft material of Ashton’s shorts and hopes that it sounds enough like a _no_.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” Ashton says, resting his hand on Calum’s back. It presses like a brand into his skin. “You can tell me all about the guy who turned you bi.”

 _Gee,_ Calum thinks, _can’t think of something more fun than that._

He really wants to laugh because lately, he’s more gay than anything else. Ashton-sexual, probably, because his head is just full of _AshtonAshtonAshton._ His heart beats to Ashton’s drum. Literally, sometimes.

“Please?” the eldest wheedles, long fingers kneading into the knots in Calum’s shoulders.

He melts into the couch as his bones liquefy and his breathing slowly deepens. Ashton is annoyingly good at the massages he gives. Knows exactly how to make his unwitting victims—usually Calum—into putty under his hands. It’s very unfortunate for Calum sometimes.

“Swimming at night is the best,” Ashton continues, fingers pressing in particularly hard into the hard muscle at the back of Calum’s neck.

A whine comes from Calum’s throat at that and at this point, he would agree to following Ashton into a pit of rabid vipers if he asked. “Kay,” Calum mumbles and god, his voice sounds wrecked. “Lezgo.”

Ashton digs his fingers into Calum’s sides for a wild, confusing moment and it jolts Calum out of his hazy headspace and he finds Ashton standing up beside the couch, grinning down at him with triumph in his eyes.

Calum gapes up at him as he realises what just happened.

“Brilliant,” the manipulative bastard says. “Grab a couple towels, I’m driving. Don’t trust you in this state.”

 

** 

 

Calum remembers the second reason that he did _not_ want to come to the beach as he watches Ashton strip out of his shirt with a whoop and go charging into the water with the light of the waning moon washing over him.

A wet, half-naked Ashton.

Regretting his decision to charm his way into the band way back when, Calum flops down onto the sand and stares at the stars.

“ _Oi,_ get your ass in the water!”

“Don’t wanna!” He calls back, tucking his arms under his head. “M’tired.” Not two minutes later, Calum is startled out of his reverie when a soaking wet body collapses onto him. _“Oof!”_

Ashton squirms on top of him to right himself and grins down cheekily. “So, now that you’re all wet, you can come swim.”

Calum groans and pushes him into the sand. “I hate you.”

“Mmm kay,” Ashton hums, jumping to his feet. “The hard way it is.”

And then Calum is letting out a bloodcurdling screech as Ashton scoops him up and tosses him over his shoulder, running down the sand at breakneck speed.

 _“If you throw me into the water, I’m going to fucking kill you!”_ Calum hollers, banging Ashton’s back with closed fists. _“You’re a dead man, Irw—”_

Bubbly, manic laughter echoes behind him as he leaves Ashton’s arms and goes sailing through the air, hitting the water hard. Calum, raging silently, cringes at the temperature and fights his way above the surface before getting flung back towards the shore as a wave hits his back.

When he finally can stand, he scowls, pulling at his dripping shirt and pushing wet hair out of his eyes, and stalks to where Ashton is standing in the shallows with a grin the size of the moon.

Calum spits out a mouthful of seawater and lunges at his best friend, tackling him into the tides.

They tussle until Ashton concedes defeat with a grin. Calum just flops onto the sand and pants until he can breathe.

When they both catch their breath, Ashton starts laughing. He laughs and laughs and laughs until Calum has no choice but to join in. Ashton’s laughter is fucking contagious, alright?

“Glad you came?” Ashton asks when the two of them can be bothered to move.

The tide is slowly rising and they’re both half-submerged.

Calum snorts as he helps Ashton to his feet. “You played me.”

He gets an unbothered wink in return. “I plead the fifth. You enjoyed it.”

“Fuck off.”

Ashton reaches out to squeeze his arm and the look on his face is gentle. “Hey, you’re okay, yeah?”

Calum deflates and gives him an honest smile. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks.”

“S’what friends are for,” Ashton says, pulling him in for a tight side-hug.

As they stumble up the beach and to the car tangled together like that, with Ashton gripping his waist and his hand tight on Ashton’s neck, Calum feels a little guilty for wanting more.

 

**

 

Calum wakes up slowly, squirming under the sheets as he rolls over onto his back. 

Sunlight is peeking around the cracks in the blinds and Calum licks his lips lazily, blinking and rubbing his eyes as he slips out of bed. He's entirely naked, probably a product of the complete laziness of the day before, and he knows Ashton won't care if he shows up naked in the kitchen. 

Michael is still fast sleep next to him, mouth open and drooling attractively onto the pillow. Calum snorts a little to himself and arranges the sheets back over Michael, and without much thought to his nakedness, he pads out of the room, down the hallway, and ambles into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes against the sudden brightness. 

“Morning,” he mumbles to Ashton who's sitting at the counter with a cup of steaming coffee in front of him, inhaling the steam like an addict. 

Ashton mutters back a greeting and lifts the mug to his lips, draining half the mug. He looks a little more alive when he puts the mug back on the marble top of the island. “Coffee's in the pot,” he says. “Michael still asleep?” There's a sigh. “Cal, will you at least put on some pants? It’s too early to see your junk flopping around.” 

“Effort,” Calum answers absently as he turns around, pours and practically inhales the coffee. “And yes, he's asleep. Drooling an ocean onto my pill—” 

He's startled out of his skin by a shattering sound behind him and he spins around to find Ashton staring blankly at the broken shards of porcelain on the counter and the coffee soaking his hands. 

“Ash?” Calum asks, startled, setting his own mug on the bench behind him before snatching up a tea towel and mopping up the spilt coffee. “Dude, what the fuck happened?” 

Ashton opens and closes his mouth a few times. 

Calum distractedly dabs at Ashton's long fingers with the cloth. 

“Nothing,” Ashton says eventually. He looks up at Calum with a small, strained grin. “I just. Squeezed too hard.” 

Calum starts laughing, helpless against it because of course Ashton doesn't know his own strength. _“Oh my god.”_

“Yeah, yeah,” Ashton mumbles as he jumps off the barstool. “I'm, uh, gonna go shower.”

Calum stares after Ashton's naked back at the abruptness. The bathroom door shuts. Confused, he finishes his own coffee and makes his way back to his room. Hearing voices in the bathroom over the rushing sound of the shower, Calum stops in his tracks. 

_Had Ashton brought someone back?_

“...no! Luke— _fuck you_ , no, did Michael take him to get a tattoo yesterday?” Ashton's saying quickly, sounding flustered. 

There's a small silence. 

“What? You sure?” Ashton hisses. “No I can't—you don't know anything about this? No—Luke, shut up and don't lie to—then did _you_ take Calum to get a tattoo?” 

Calum blanches at his name, now firmly rooted to his spot outside the bathroom.  _Tattoo?_ What the hell was Ashton freaking out about? 

“Luke, it's literally written on his ass!” Ashton screeches finally in what sounds like complete desperation. 

Calum almost falls over. What the hell was on his ass? 

“No—NO, WHAT THE FUCK— _property of Ashton Irwin_ is fucking stamped on Calum's ass, Luke!” 

Calum freezes in place, horror washing over him in a tsunami tide. There was _what_ written on his ass? 

“I don't know!” Ashton squawks. “Why the hell would he get that tattooed on his ass— _I'M NOT PANICKING!”_

Calum can't breathe because holy fucking hell, his life goal and guilty secret is literally _stamped on his ass_. But also, he's going to fucking kill Michael because of course this has to be his fault. 

“It's not funny, Luke!” Ashton groans beyond the door. 

Michael Clifford is a dead man. 

 _“MICHAEL FUCKING CLIFFORD,”_ Calum roars as he turns on his heel. The entire apartment rings with his voice. _“GET YOUR TREACHOURS ASS OUT OF MY BED, MOTHERFUCKER!”_  

Calum barely hears the bathroom door open behind him in the hallway as he throws open the door to his room, storms over and rips open his curtains. Michael stirs, shifting on to his back as sunlight streams onto his face, and wipes the saliva off his chin.

He blinks sleepily. 

Calum glares, hoping Michael can see the wrath of a thousand burning suns in his eyes. 

“Get the fuck up, Michael,” he hisses. “Did you put a fucking fake tattoo on my ass last night?”

Michael stares at him for a moment before the sleepy-eyed haze melts away as he bursts into surprised laughter. Calum resists the urge to throw Michael out of the window. The annoying shithead gasps just as Ashton bursts in through the bedroom door. 

“I forgot,” Michael wheezes. “Oh fuck, I can't believe—” 

He glances at Ashton's irritated, flustered expression and back to Calum who's plotting Michael's downfall with every second that passes. 

“Tell me,” Michael begs, “Please tell me his reaction was worth the money I spent.” 

Calum scowls and crosses his arms over his chest. “Define worth. He broke a mug with his bare hands.” 

Michael collapses into the bed in a fresh bout of laughter, grabbing his chest, head thrown back. 

“Michael,” Calum says. “It's not funny.” 

 _“You're still naked,”_ Michael howls, tears glittering on his cheeks. “You're still naked and Ashton crushed a mug—I'm a fucking _genius_.” 

Calum huffs and grabs a random pair of boxers off the chair in his room. 

“You know,” Michael says amidst more laughter. “I thought he'd have at least groped your butt. He does have a thing for butts.” 

Calum spins around to gape at Michael as Ashton splutters in the doorway.  _Especially your butt_ rings in the silence as Michael winks at Calum.

 _“Did he?_ Did I miss that? Tell me I didn't miss that.” 

“No you didn't miss that!” Ashton exclaims. “Michael, where did you even get that tattoo?” 

“I had it made,” the infuriating bastard answers. He smirks at Ashton. “Custom-made and tailored to perfection in your own handwriting.” 

Calum flushes a little but he refuses to be cowed by the fact that it’s in _Ashton’s_ handwriting. Dear any God listening to his pleas, _help._ “Why?”

Michael looks at him and leers. “Because it's true.” He cackles. “Looking a little red there, Cali.” 

“Fuck you,” Calum hisses. 

“No,” Michael says sagely. “You'd rather fuck Ashton.” 

The resulting silence makes Calum's head spin. It's so quiet that all he can hear are his laboured breaths and the distant sound of traffic six storeys below. His chest is hollow like there's an expanding balloon in it and his heart is thundering and Calum really doesn't want to be here right now. 

“What, me?” He tries to joke. “That's hilarious...” It fails spectacularly and he trails off, cringing as Ashton's head turns towards him. 

The funny thing is, on any other day, Ashton would have snorted and they’d all have laughed it off because they’ve made jokes like these for _years._ Today though, today something has Ashton shaken and the undercurrent of honesty in Michael’s voice isn’t helping Calum to pass it off as _just another joke._

“Well, I'm gonna remove myself from this situation,” Michael says eventually even though he _created_ the damn situation. “You two talk this out.” 

It's all Calum can do to not throw himself at Michael and shove them both out of the window. If this ended in tears and bloodshed, Michael is going to be disowned. Calum will not hesitate to smash every guitar Michael owns.

As the door shuts behind a grinning Michael who gestures wildly behind Ashton's back, Calum lets out a tightly controlled breath. 

“Sorry,” is the first thing he says. 

Ashton stares at him some more with those unnerving hazel eyes. 

“Can you please put on a shirt?” Calum begs in a last ditch effort to stop his gaze from drifting from Ashton's face to the finely toned muscles that he's had numerous dreams about licking. He once had a dream about _biting_ the swell of Ashton’s—

Ashton makes a sound in his throat like he's dying and he grabs Michael's _Iron Maiden_ shirt off the floor. 

Right. Not the time for daydreaming.

With that out of the way, _that_ being Ashton’s chest, Calum breathes a little easier. 

“So,” Ashton says. It sounds very clinical. “You want to fuck me?”

The breath that Calum takes in gets tangled up in his throat and he chokes. “Oh god,” he groans, “Please don't say it like that.” 

“You didn't deny it.” 

Rubbing his hot cheeks, Calum sighs and turns away from his soon-to-be-ex best friend. He stares at the guitars leaning against the wall and formulates an answer. “That's 'cos I can't.” 

Ashton says nothing for a beat. Calum dies several times over in that moment. “So that tattoo on your ass...?” 

“Is Michael's idea of a joke.” He prays for strength. “Fuck, Ash, I'm sorry alright? I didn't mean for you to—”

“To what? Find out? You weren't ever gonna tell me that you wanted me?” 

“I wasn't ever going to tell you that I've wanted you since I was sixteen,” Calum admits as he turns around slowly. He looks up, cringing inwardly, and sees the point black shock dawning in Ashton's eyes. “You weren't ever supposed to know and I was supposed to move on.” 

“Don’t.”

Calum gapes a little as Ashton takes a few steps forward, face a little pained but something resolute settling in his eyes.

“Don’t brush it off,” Ashton says, gaze pinning Calum in place. “This whole thing answers a few questions.”

A sound like a dying cat presses out of him. “Oh?”

The twist of Ashton’s lips is wry. “The staring, for one. Every time I’ve looked up in the past few weeks, you’ve been watching me.”

“Oh,” Calum mutters.

His cheeks have been perpetually hot for the length of this conversation and he’s all too aware that he looks like a tomato. God, who knew his subtlety had been shot to hell since seeing Ashton sprawled naked on his bed and leaking into his hand.

 _Fuck._ Really not the time.

Ashton makes a sound and takes another step forward. “Something changed.”

Calum hears Michael’s faint voice through the walls and curses him for an eternity of hell. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Something changed.”

The eyebrow that arches at him is slightly terrifying and the _go on tell me_ is explicit.  

How the hell is he supposed to answer that? _Oh hey, I saw you jerking off and had an existential crisis about it because you look exactly the same when you’re drumming and fuck it’s hot?_ Yeah, somehow Calum doesn’t see that flying.

“Cal?”

It’s the nickname that gets him.

“I might have seen you getting off,” his mouth says.

_Oh god._

Ashton’s eyes go wide and round, mouth dropping open a little, and for the second time, looks completely off guard.

“I’m sorry,” Calum can’t help continuing because now that he’s already started digging his grave, he might as well keep going. He isn’t looking at Ashton, eyes jumping all over the room as the words tumble out. “I didn’t mean to, I just walked in and you were there and you didn’t hear me and I didn’t know what to do and it was—you hate me don’t you—I swear I didn’t stay there, I left but God, do you know how you look when you’re—anyway it royally fucked up my head and of course you would go and fuck up my plan to never think about how I felt about you, it _would_ be you ‘cos it’s always you—”

He slams to a stop when Ashton steps right in front of him, a scant metre between them. Calum is breathing heavier now, staring at the older boy and wondering what the fuck is happening.

Ashton’s small huff of laughter confuses him and when Ashton lifts his bright, beautiful eyes from the ground to look at him, Calum swallows hard.

“Your first mistake,” Ashton says softly, “was assuming that I could ever hate you.” He shakes his head with a strange look on his face and Calum is mystified because that expression actually looks like _fondness._ There is no cause for fondness in this conversation. “Your second mistake,” Ashton continues, that small smile still curling into his cheek, “was forgetting what I told you about the alien.”

A choked laugh is all Calum can manage.

Ashton grins indulgently. “Your third mistake,” he says, flicking up three fingers, “is that you’re a complete idiot.”

Calum huffs, crossing his arms, now more offended than confused. “Wow, thanks, way to let a guy down gently, Ash. Nice work.”

 _“Listen,_ you moron,” Ashton emphasises with a roll of his eyes. “Your fourth one is tied to your third. Michael figured it out before you so your observation skills are complete shit.”

“My observation skills are fucking awesome, stop _insulting me._ ”

Ashton snorts and flips up his pinky finger. “Your fourth mistake was assuming that everything you felt is unrequited.”

“That’s completely unfair, I—wait _what?”_ Calum registers the words a beat too late and everything inside him comes to a complete standstill. “You…I… _what?”_

A small grin greets him. “That first day I met you, I thought you were so irresponsible and I made you sleep on the floor.” Ashton laughs, a soft, low _huh_ sound full of nostalgia. “You were so small and full of fire and despite me being a dick, you made me breakfast the next day because Michael and Luke were still asleep. The toast was a little burnt and you almost spilt coffee all over you and I thought I’d have to take you to the ED, but you were so adorable and heartfelt.”

His throat feels thick, stomach doing cartwheels and Calum tries to slow his heart as it picks up until it’s racing, thudding so hard that it’s shaking him.

Ashton’s smile is sweet and his eyes are clear, shining a perfect green-gold-brown in the sunlight. “Now, you’ve become _you._ Kickass bassist, killer singer with a beautiful soul. You’re hot as _fuck_ but you don’t need me to tell you that,” he adds, eyes glittering.

Calum wants to argue, wants to yell and jump around and screech like a banshee, wants to shout _Ashton thinks I’m hot as fuck_ from the top of the tallest building he can find.

But he can’t. He might even cry at this stage because he isn’t sure if this is even real.

“I,” his voice cracks. “Ashton, _what the fuck?”_ He demands and dear god, his voice has gone hoarse. “You—you—you can’t just— _you can’t pull this shit out from nowhere!”_

Ashton bursts into laughter. Calum frankly finds that insulting. None of this is funny.

“ _Stop fucking laughing!”_ He hisses, throwing his hands in the air.

“Sorry,” Ashton chuckles. He takes a couple of steps until their chests are almost flush and Calum can feel Ashton’s breath on his mouth. “God,” he mumbles and raises his hands to Calum’s face. Brushing his long fingers over Calum’s jaw, he slides one hand to cup the back of Calums head. “Maybe I’m an idiot too.”

Calum is one more shock away from total cardiac failure. His hands settle on Ashton’s hips and he swallows hard again when Ashton leans in. “Maybe you are,” he rasps.

Ashton smiles and Calum is knocked breathless by the beauty of Ashton’s eyes this close. “We should fix that.”

A pained groan rumbles in Calum’s throat and he uses his grip on Ashton’s hips to yank him forward until they’re pressed together from knee to chest. “Kiss me, you fucking silver-tongued _asshole.”_

Ashton’s grin tips up into blinding before he pushes forward and catches Calum’s open mouth.

The kiss is soft, a press of lips to lips, and Calum’s knees buckle a little, jelly-legged as Ashton pulls his bottom lip into his mouth and sucks on it.

“Ashton,” Calum says, voice low and rough, as he pushes back to cross his arms. “We’ve wasted years, kiss me like you want to _destroy_ me.”

Ashton launches himself across the space between them with pained sound and knocks into him hard, his mouth catching Calum's. 

It's all a bit complicated when almost six-foot worth of boy is thrown at you and Calum stumbles and falls backward, pulling Ashton with him, and ends up pinned to the floor by Ashton's fucking ridiculous thighs. 

Ashton pulls away, his giggles trapped between them, biting at his bottom lip, hands resting on Calum's chest. Calum grins a little, and then wraps his hand around the nape of Ashton's neck and pulls him down hard. Ashton's fingers curl against his chest, mouth warm and wet and tasting deliciously like coffee. 

It's when Calum gets literally pinned to the floor and Ashton takes charge of the kiss, a leg forced between his thighs, that he realises that he's hard in his boxers.

That is a potential problem. 

He bites at Ashton's lip and swings them around in the second that the older boy startles around a gasp, knocking against the foot of the bed, and pressing Ashton into the floor and sucking hard under the hinge of his jaw.

It's pretty fucking hard—pun totally,  _totally_  intended—to concentrate when Ashton's massive hands are roaming over his body, hip to shoulders to jaw and back down to his neck, suddenly pressing in at the point right behind his earlobe which makes him stop and muffle a moan against Ashton's throat. 

Shit. 

Ashton's fingers tighten, stroking over the point slowly, firmly, and Calum squirms. Ashton's hips rock up into his and Calum wonders if he's going to hell. Ashton bites at his lip then, tugging on it as he pulls back and then presses back in, licking into Calum’s mouth as he slides his hands between Calum and the floor, squeezing his ass, and Calum’s hips twitch up, his groan muffled into the wet heat of Ashton’s mouth.

He can feel the hot length of Ashton against his thigh, rock hard in his shorts and he rocks up, twisting his hips and choking back a sound when his dick catches on Ashton’s. He sees stars as Ashton moans and grinds down.  

 _“Calum,”_ Ashton groans and holy _Jesus,_ Calum needs to hear that again because Ashton should always say his name like that, fucked out and rough.

"Bed," he pants wetly against Ashton's ear, mouths separating with a slick sound, as the blonde thumbs over his collarbones and presses his mouth to Calum’s pounding pulse. He bites down, sucking hard, and Calum writhes on the floor. "Jesus— _fuck_ —bed."

Ashton huffs a breathless laugh and another as the warm air sweeps over the flushed skin of Calum's neck, making him groan. 

"Bed," Ashton murmurs into the hollow of Calum's collarbones. _"Fuck yes."_

Calum almost goes boneless at the raw husky sound of Ashton's voice, his skin crawls with need, blood burning. 

Ashton rolls them over, fingers tight on Calum’s hips, looking down at him with dark eyes that are all pupil, hazel rings around them like burnished gold. Calum yanks him down and licks into his mouth, pushing his fingers underneath Ashton's shirt, stroking along the hot skin above his shorts. 

His brain is cloudy with need, with the lust and desperation that’s burning through his body, wild with the feeling of Ashton against him like this because _finally,_ and god he’s done this before, so many times but has it ever felt this good, has it ever felt as good has having Ashton above him, rubbing off against him. He feels crazy, fingers tight in Ashton’s hair now, panting as they come apart before Calum arches up again and sucks on Ashton’s tongue.

Ashton has his fingers sliding down, under the elastic of Calum’s boxers, dragging them over the swell of his ass, rubbing over and over and over the slightly rough surface of the tattoo. Calum moans, throwing his head back and pushing his ass into Ashton’s hands.

" _Fuck_ —Cal," Ashton moans against his neck, "M'not fucking you on the floor."

Calum blanks out at _fucking you,_ staring at Ashton's bitten, spit-slick red lips when he pulls away. It sends him a little wild, the look on Ashton’s face, and he can’t help it as he arches up to Ashton’s mouth and grinds against Ashton. He’s so fucking close he can _taste it_ and god, he _wants_ it.

 _“Calum,”_ Ashton hisses right into his ear as he pulls his mouth away.

And that’s when Calum loses it completely. It washes over him suddenly and it’s desperate, sloppy and too hot and Ashton’s voice goes right down to his dick and he comes with his mouth pressed to Ashton’s hammering pulse, shuddering in his arms.

 _"Fuck, that’s hot,”_ Ashton groans, dropping his head to Calum’s shoulder.

He grins lazily and pushes Ashton back far enough to pull his lower lip between his teeth and Ashton moans around a shallow breath.

“Come on, your turn,” Calum murmurs, reaching between them, under the shorts, getting his hand around Ashton, squeezing and rubbing over the head.

A groan rips out of Ashton and he rocks into the grip, hard and fast, leaking into Calum’s hand. The sounds he makes are so mind-numbingly hot and Calum moans low in his throat, sucking on Ashton’s pulse.

“Shit,” he grinds out, “Fuck, Ash, _come on.”_

Ashton shudders over him, freezing as a broken moan spills out of him and his dick throbs in Calum’s hand and as he comes. He collapses onto Calum in a sweaty heap and Calum is helpless to the low tug in his stomach as he leans up and kisses him.

Ashton kisses back, slow and deep and thorough, and Calum can feel his toes curl against the carpet.

“Fuck, we’re both idiots,” Calum says as they pull apart and stare at each other with sheepish grins. “Could’ve been doing that for almost six years.”

Ashton gives him a completely fucked out, dopey smile. “Got the rest of forever for it now.”

“Oh my god, orgasms turn you into a sap,” Calum laughs, carding his clean fingers through the mop of curls on Ashton’s head. “I bet I could suck your brains out through your dick.”

Ashton huffs an exasperated fond laugh and lifts Calum’s hips to get to his ass, fingers rubbing along the crease. “Reckon I can eat you out and make you forget everything but my name.”

Shivers race down his spine and Calum sucks in a gulp of air. “Shall we take this to the bed?”

“Yes, yes we fucking shall,” Ashton breathes, and yanks Calum to his feet.

 

**

 

Of course, it’s a disaster when Michael and Luke find out. Luke had apparently been forced to leave his own apartment and come over because Michael needed _emotional support._

Calum drops his head onto Ashton’s shoulder as Michael’s triumphant yell deafens the four of them. “Why me,” he mutters into Ashton’s collarbone. _“Why.”_

“Let him have it,” Ashton whispers, chuckling. “He’s not wrong, if he hadn’t tattooed your ass, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

Calum groans. “Please don’t tell him that. We’ll never hear the end of it. I’d like to get through the tour with my dignity intact.”

Luke is laughing with Michael, high-fiving him every time he asks and shaking his head after every single one. “Keep your voice down,” he says eventually. “The neighbours are gonna complain.”

Michael slows down, grin still firmly in place, and flashes Calum a wicked look. “They’re gonna be complaining about a whole lot more than my yelling. You should’ve heard Calum moaning. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought he was in pain.”

“Do you have _no_ shame?” Ashton asks. “Never mind,” he adds when Michael raises an eyebrow. “Don’t answer that.”

Calum rubs his cheeks. “Please fuck off. I’ve heard you having sex and you’re not exactly quiet either.”

Michael rolls his eyes. “Silence is overrated. Sex isn’t supposed to be quiet.”

“Can we stop talking about sex?” Ashton pinches the bridge of his nose. “Don’t you two have better things to be doing?”

Luke grins. “Is that code for _get out cos I want to fuck my new boyfriend?”_

“Yeah,” Calum says, lifting his head. “Yeah it is so unless you want to see things that’ll haunt you for the rest of your life, _get out.”_

Ashton presses his mouth to Calum’s hair to hide his laughter but Calum feels his shoulders shaking with the force of it. He counts it as a win.

Michael sniffs and jerks his head at Luke. “C’mon, let’s leave these two ungrateful assholes to christen the apartment.” 

Luke rolls his eyes and pushes to his feet. “Breakfast?”

“Ceebs—”

“C’mon, Mikey, we can go to that place with the Oreo milkshakes,” Luke says, flashing a bright grin at Michael.

Calum finds it hilarious to watch Michael cave like a house of cards. For someone who hates being called _Mikey,_ he’s a hypocrite when it comes to Luke. Then again, Michael is a lot of things when it comes to Luke. Most notably, _infatuated._

“Yeah, breakfast,” the redhead sighs. “Let’s go.”

As Michael follows Luke out the front door, Ashton looks up with a wide, cheesy smile. “ _Thanks, Mikey!”_

Calum pushes his face into the curve of Ashton’s throat and laughs when Michael throws the finger at them over his head just before the door shuts.

“How long do you think it’ll take those two to get their shit together?” Ashton asks as he pulls Calum in the direction of the shower.

Calum surges forward until he’s got Ashton trapped against the hallway wall. He hums. “The rest of their lives, give or take a few months.”

Ashton snorts and presses up for the kiss that Calum’s aching for.

“I’m gonna fuck you on my drum kit one day,” he murmurs against Calum’s mouth.

“Shut up and don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Calum throws back with an indignant toss of his head even though the words burn in his stomach. “It’ll break and you’ll have to explain how you broke it. Don’t think you’ll get away with _oops I fell.”_

Ashton chuckles and pushes Calum down the hallway. “We’ll see.”

If his fingers linger on the fake tattoo on Calum’s ass, no one has to know. And if Calum secretly contemplates having it permanently tattooed there, well, maybe he’ll let Ashton find out.   

**Author's Note:**

> So um...HOPEFULLY that was alright for a first and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it :P 
> 
> Please please please leave a comment! I'm so weak, I live on comments so it'll be awesome if you could humour me hahaha ^_^ 
> 
> Thank youuuuu <3


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